IT WAS QUIET at the Fingerprint Analysis Section when I got there. The only person in the lab was one of the civilian staff, an analyst named Bernie Stringer who usually went by 'Strings.' I could hear the heavy metal on his iPod blaring away while he worked.
'I hope that's not priority!' he shouted, and then pulled out an earbud. 'Narcotics is already kicking my ass here.' There were two full boxes of slides on the bench next to him.
'I just need some prints off of this,' I said, holding the Coke can up by the lip.
'Tonight?' he said.
'Yeah, actually. Now.'
'Knock yourself out, man. Cyanoacrylate's in the drawer by the fuming chamber.'
That was fine by me. I like working in the lab every once in a while. It makes me feel smarter, even if printing is Forensics 101.
I went over to the fuming chamber and set the can upright inside. Then I put a few drops of cyanoacrylate, which is really just superglue, on a dish and sealed it all up to heat for a while.
In about fifteen minutes, I had a nice four-print set standing out on the surface of the can. Sampson's paw print was there, too, but it was easy enough to differentiate, sizewise.
I dusted the ones I wanted with black powder and took a few pictures, just in case.
After that, it was only a matter of lifting them with clear tape and laying them back down on a card for scanning.
'Hey, Strings!' I shouted over. 'Can I use your system?'
'Knock yourself out! Password's B-I-G-B-U-T-Z.'
'Of course it is,' I said.
'Huh? What's that?'
'Nothing.'
Once I got the prints onto the computer, it took IAFIS about half an hour to spit out four possible matches. A lot of the time, the final comparison is done by eye, which is good. It helps keep the process human.
And it didn't take long for me to confirm one of the four.
The tented arch pattern on our man's index finger was fairly distinctive, even as these little puzzles go.
With a few keystrokes, I had his name and record right there in front of me.
He was Stanislaw Wajda.
That explained the accent anyway. He'd been arrested just once, on a domestic assault charge in College Park, Maryland, a year and a half earlier. It didn't seem like too much to go on.
But, in fact, I'd just stumbled onto a killer.
Chapter 88
AN INITIAL ONLINE search for 'Stanislaw Wajda' brought up all kinds of different results. When I filtered for news reports, I got a whole slew of year-old stories about a missing-persons case.
That seemed promising, and I clicked on the first one, from the Baltimore Sun.
Questions Persist in Professor's Disappearance
April 12, College Park – The search continues for University of Maryland professor Stanislaw Wajda, 51, who was last seen leaving the A. V. Williams Building on the university campus the evening of April 7.
Wajda's mental state at the time of his disappearance has since become a matter of widespread speculation. While local police and UM officials have declined to comment on the issue, the professor's erratic behavior over the last six months is a matter of public record.
In October, police were summoned to Wajda's home on Radcliffe Drive for a domestic-disturbance call. Wajda, who had no previous criminal record, was charged with aggravated assault and held overnight, until the charges were dropped.
On campus, Professor Wajda has been brought before the university provost two times in the past year, once for unspecified aggressive behavior toward a graduate student, and a second time following what one eyewitness described as an explosive episode in the university library over a missing periodical.
Wajda, a professor of mathematics, came to the United States from Poland in 1983 to study at Boston University, where he won several top academic prizes in his field. More recently, he was featured in the PBS NOVA documentary 'Ones to Watch' for his study of prime numbers, and specifically his pursuit of a proof for what many consider to be the holy grail of mathematics today: Riemann's hypothesis…
I stopped reading right there, got up, and dialed Sampson's number on my way out the door.
'Strings, thanks much.'
'No problem. Glad to help out.'
Chapter 89
'I'm outside of the damn shelter, if you can believe it. I can't. Guy pushed a shopping cart around the block a few times and then checked back in for a bed before Siegel and the others were even gone. I've got Donny Burke coming to take the overnight for me.'
'We need to pull the guy out of there,' I said.
'Why do you sound like you're running?'
'He's a math professor, John. An expert in prime numbers. And Riemann's hypothesis.'
'What?'
'Yeah. His name's Stanislaw Wajda, and he's been missing for a year. Wait for me. I'll be right there.'
It was faster to run over to the shelter than get my car. I was already down the back stairs and cutting across Judiciary Square.
'I've got this,' Sampson said. 'I'll have him out by the time you get here.'
'John, don't -'
But he'd already hung up. Sampson can be just as stubborn and pigheaded as I am sometimes, which is why it's hard to hold it against him.
I picked up the pace.
From Judiciary Square, I came out on Fourth Street and cut around the block toward Second. Before I got there, though, I saw Sampson coming right toward me as if he'd just been around the back of the building.
'He's gone, Alex! His cart's not there anymore, and there's a goddamn door in the back. He duped me! He's out!' Sampson turned away and kicked a garbage bag off the curb, sending a shower of trash into the street.
Before he could take another swinging kick, I pulled him back. 'Hang on, John. One thing at a time. We don't know anything for sure yet.'
'Don't even start with that,' he told me. 'It's him. I put that damn knife back in his hand, and then I let him get away.'
'We both did, John,' I said. 'We both did.'
But Sampson wasn't hearing me. I could tell he was going to blame himself no matter what I said, so I stopped trying and switched to action.
'He can't be far,' I said. 'It's not like he hopped into a cab or something. We'll walk the neighborhood all night if we have to. I'll get this out on WALES right away. Put some more eyes on the street. Maybe get someone from Warrant Squad in the morning, if it comes to that. Those guys are bloodhounds. We'll get him.'
Sampson nodded and started up the street without another word. No time like the present.
'What'd you say the name was?' he asked as I came up alongside him.
'Stanislaw Wajda,' I told him.
'Stanislaw…?'
